You’re not gone. How could you be? When true love lives on? You were true, to me.
James Whitcomb Riley once wrote “I cannot say, and I will not say that he is dead- he is away”
Likewise I can’t say that you died, it just doesn’t feel right. I can’t even say that you’re resting, because that would mean accepting that you’re not conscious. But you are aren’t you? You’re well aware that you’re away. I can feel you, I can really feel you in every sweet fragrance I come across, I feel you in the silence, I feel your kiss in the warmth of the sun and can feel your voice in the wind without actually hearing your whispers. I know you are away and your absence hurts me. I know you are away and I wish I could hold your hand one last time. Just one last time. Hear you say you love me one last time. Just one last time. I know you are away, your peace resides in the vibrations of my soul when it dances. The cold rain on my face is like a warm embrace, I feel you holding my chin up when it rains, and how I pray for rain. Just to feel you holding my head up, as it brings you back from being away. I miss you most when I see that you’re here but so far, its the distance of you being away that breaks me, to reach out my hand and know that you reach yours out as well, and while they overlap they never touch. My heart is jealous that you have been able to move on without me. But I find peace in knowing that your life goes on beyond this, this world that I’m stuck in. But you’re not gone, you may be away but I am never without you. We live in the same time and space, just completely different dimensions, different worlds. You are away but you are here. Our memories are glitter that is sprinkled into the sweet moments of my life. And it shines. When I find the strength to smile I sparkle because of you. You are with me, as part of me is you. And yes you are away, but wait for me darling as this journey without you is just me well on my way back to you.
At this point it’s hard to know which bruises hurt more. The physical wounds are antagonizing. But the emotional distress is truly torturous. What am I so sad and low spirited about though? The fact that I have a new struggle to add onto, or the fact that life betrays me after every promise of a smooth ride? I guess that’s why we don’t trust in mankind or the life mankind has to provide. I should be rejoicing in the rain, in every drop God sent to remind me I am blessed. But how can I do that with a million different thoughts flooding me? I am drowning in a sea of questions, in oceans of uncertainty, in man made lakes of doubt. I am not just interrogating myself on where I have found my worth, but I am also wanting to question everyone and everything around me. My trust has failed to prevail once again. Setting up borders higher than the lasts. Building walls that don’t vanish in the horizons, hiding the frontier in which I can see a brighter tomorrow. If the grass IS greener on the other side I am not envying it. For I am locked in a dam, I don’t believe in grass and if there is grass anywhere it must be dead. Water doesn’t exist in the deserts outside the thoughts that drown me. I wish my mind was dry and empty like the west. I wish my mind was silent and abandoned, that every last thought I am fighting against decided to leave me like my good fortune. Solitude, now there’s a word that I find comfort in and yet cringe at. I am okay with being alone when it means in my head. But how I long for your spirit to reside next to mine. I yearn for the soft caress of your fingers on the back of my hand. I don’t want to be without you. But I want to be alone. Why are my spirits so low? Is it because thinking of us is thinking of the toxicity we poured on each other within the same water we used to grow? It’s thinking of the stones we threw when we decided you’d condemn me and I’ll condemn you. It’s thinking, and thats what I want to step away from. Every thought that invades my place of rest and incarcerates me. I am locked away in a jail that I sentenced myself to when I didn’t know how to love. I should be rejoicing in the rain, every drop God sent to remind me that his blessings are among me. His promise already fulfilled. But the boisterous winds of my past still haunt me. I can hear the storms whistling at the distance. Almost as to promise me that they will make a way into my present. The clouds aren’t clearing but the rain, the rain is a reminder of blessings. I am still. Not because I desire for the dry storms to catch up to me, but because I know this stormy weather won’t allow for old storms to arise. I look back but for what? All I see is the tornados that tore my home a part and spat it out into the far future completely intact now looking for new homes and cars to devour. Maybe I’ll leave a snack, for when it reaches this point I will be long gone. I should be rejoicing in the rain, in every drop God promises me blessings. So I turn my gaze ahead, I move one step forward and step out of my comfortability. I’ve got to align myself, my soul, my spirit, and I know my mind and body will follow. Submission, now there is a word I look forward to but toil with. Is it because I find submitting to the one that can bring the rain to me so beautiful, but can’t control my surrounding environment to submit with? It would mean to let go of me, if I’m not in love with who I am but in who you’ll make me…. why is it a brawl to lose me? I’ll go around the valley and starve my flesh. Once I am lost, completely lost in myself it will rain. I will rejoice in the rain, every drop God filling me with his blessings. I will find who he has planed for me to be. I couldn’t tell which bruises hurt more and now my wounds he healed. In the rain, he healed me in the rain.
On this journey I hope to inspire others through my poetry and life experiences. I hope to be able to fuel and feed your soul, emotions, and minds. I want to spread warmth and kindness. A bee isn’t a loner, and for that reason I call for you to join me. Let me pollinate your life through my writing.
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton